Nithaiah crouched down low, arms crossed over his chest, under the morning sunlight. A small ashen bird chirped a lovely song as it wove through the air, chasing a fleeing insect. His dark eyes followed it until a falcon’s claws snatched it from the sky. It was a perfect time for mourning.
“Nithaiah?” a weak voice rose out of the old man’s throat as he lay on his back near the muddy river bank. “Nithaiah, who am I?”
Standing up, Nithaiah straightened the black jacket worn over his black and white striped dress shirt. He combed a hand through his shaggy brown hair, releasing a long sigh. Nithaiah had thought the old man would’ve been still and quiet, lying shamefully in his private purgatory until the vultures came to feast on his flesh.
“Kilian,” he finally said with the voice of a passionate preacher. “You are that ashen bird, grasped by those lethal talons. You are your Father’s creation, led astray by the sinful whims of instinct.”
“But you, Nithaiah, are my deceitful muse. Was it not you that gave me the inspiration to be that which I am?” Kilian asked, regaining his strength.
Casting a sidelong glance at the naked, white-haired man, Nithaiah responded in a dark tone, “The muse may inspire creativity, but it is man that uses that inspiration for destruction.”
“Don your cloak of purity, if you must. But, we are both responsible for that which has come to be. Neither of us have clean hands now, my muse,” Kilian spoke with his raspy accent, while struggling to stand.
Nithaiah blocked the bright sun from Kilian’s green eyes as he stood over him, offering a helping hand.
“And now, you tell me, though your trickery led to this, that you are innocent?! Grasped by talons, I may be. However, Nithaiah, they are your talons! What difference is there between us? What difference is there between our actions?” Kilian asked as he rejected the helping hand with an irritated swat and stood upright on his own.
“Forgiveness, Kilian. Forgiveness.”
“Bah! One has only to ask to be forgiven. You fear the prospect of rejection, so you lack the courage to pose the question.”
Walking away from the sun, Nithaiah motioned for Kilian to follow him.
“And where must our final deed take us, my muse?” Kilian inquired.
“There is a funeral to attend.”
Though the light shone bright, Nithaiah’s thoughts remained dark as he began leading the way down a dirt path toward The Funeral. The world had ignored his existence even as his whispers filled countless minds with brilliant innovations throughout the millennia. Yet, here was Kilian, standing naked, as man dominated by his own free will and limited only by his mortality. No other had ever seen Nithaiah. To all the world, he had only been a whisper in the background of some distant dream. For this reason, Nithaiah shared the burden of guilt along with Kilian.
Nithaiah, the angelic muse, had never experienced emotion before. Now, the feeling of guilt weighed down upon his shoulders. It was a burden Nithaiah held with all his strength, the way the Greeks must have imagined Atlas as he supported the weight of the sky itself.
Watching Kilian as they both continued along the dirt path, Nithaiah wondered if the calm composure displayed on Kilian’s face was merely a disguise, covering the chaotic emotions within. Man could easily shed their sin. For angels, the task seemed less simple.
Noticing the look of frustration worn by Nithaiah, Kilian chose to end the silence, “My muse is troubled? Perhaps if you were human you wouldn’t be worrying so?”
“A natural arrogant assumption for a human; to assume that the angels would be jealous of you. The angels sing safely in heaven while watching the majority of you descend into hell.”
“Those in hell are there by choice; they are those that can‘t muster the courage to repent. Besides, angels can also commit themselves into hell’s institution of punishment.”
“Foolishness, Kilian.”
“I think not. Your wings are shredded, my muse.”
Nithaiah’s brown eyes went wide as he reached back with trembling fingers and felt the frayed, blood-covered feathers that were once his wings. Fear swelled up inside. There was no pain, only fear. The angel had been cast out of heaven.
“So now my poor muse knows for certain that we share accountability for what we have done.”
“A whisper of disastrous destiny was never issued from my lips.”
“The world was plagued by evil. I asked for a solution to end it.”
“You used that inspiration to design the scythe of the grim reaper.”
“I admit that my cure was worse than the disease. Biochemical weapons can be dangerous tools of warfare,” the twisted smile on Kilian’s face almost sickened Nithaiah.
“The whisper was for a vaccine to cure the innocent.”
“I had the best of intentions… But, had your talons of inspiration not scratched the surface of my consciousness, I would’ve been as free as that ashen bird. Free of the guilt of this horrid crime.”
“I was beginning to think that you had derived some sort of pleasure from this. It’s hard to imagine that you have anything near to guilt in that cold heart of yours.”
“The slight annoyance of guilt will vanquish as I am forgiven. But, yes, I do feel it. How could I not? We are the two that have destroyed the world.”
The sinful man and the fallen angel walked side-by-side down the sunlit path, towards their destination. Tall, gray, dilapidated buildings gradually rose on the horizon. The further they walked into the decaying city, the darker the sky became as dense fog began to settle. Soft murmurs and low grumbling soon filled the air. Stones crumbled downward into the streets as they dislodged from the buildings. Moments after Nithaiah and Kilian reached the center of the city, strange apparitions emerged from the swirling white mist. The entities coming forth from the fog were the souls of all mankind.
They had arrived at their destination: The Funeral.
“A thousand souls await their fate,” Nithaiah whispered.
It was then that the earth and sky opened wide to pass judgment on the souls. The world around Nithaiah and Kilian rumbled with the sound of thunder and quaking earth. The gateways into heaven and hell opened before them, revealing their previously concealed secrets.
Wisps of light encircled those that ascended upward into the clouds, dressing them in heavenly garments and comforting their fears. Laughter and pleasant voices enveloped them as they were received by deceased loved ones. However, those were not the souls that caught the attention of the sinful man and the fallen angel.
The souls of those surrounded by hell’s fire shrieked their terror. A great horned demon opened his mouth wide to swallow them all down into the fiery turmoil deep in the pit of his stomach. Unbearable scenes of torture unfolded as hundred of skinless monsters groped at the naked souls falling into their doom. Red slithering monstrosities stabbed pitchforks at the helpless spirits of murderers and thieves. Men and women alike were impaled by giant shadowed creatures with glowing eyes. Whips cracked against the already burnt flesh of countless victims.
Amid the chaos of hell sat Satan upon his throne of decayed flesh and exposed bone. Black birdlike wings stretched outward from his frail frame. Two twisting horns protruded from his bulbous head. The pale skin covering his body was pulled tight against his grotesque, bony body. Black fingernails, resembling talons, scratched ruthlessly at the backs of the defenseless souls trapped within his kingdom.
“A horrid fate that would be,” Kilian mentioned while watching the scene with a disgusting sensation of interest.
The Lord’s eyes suddenly fell upon the two awestricken bystanders. The time had come for Kilian and Nithaiah to face judgment. Their journey through purgatory had concluded, opening the door to eternity.
With an air of confidence, Kilian stepped forward into the unfolding pandemonium and said in an overdramatic tone, “Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. My eyes will forever shed tears over what I’ve done. Forgive me, Lord, and grant me passage into heaven.”
Instantly, wisps of light whisked around Kilian’s naked body, wrapping a shimmering white robe around him. Kilian closed his eyes and smiled with pleasure as his body was lifted upward by an invisible force. The voices of his ancestors beckoned him to join their heavenly celebration.
But, he was never engulfed by the light. Kilian’s green eyes went wide with surprise and fear when he realized that he was no longer floating, but instead falling.
Nithaiah watched as Kilian fell helplessly down toward the mouth of the beast. Kilian’s white robe became gray and torn as he fell further into the horned demon’s stomach. Snarling monsters fought over his flesh, ripping his skin and breaking his bones. Their grotesque, squirming bodies wrapped around Kilian like several hundred snakes devouring their prey. Screams erupted as Kilian fought for freedom. His fiery single-man rebellion was snuffed out like a flame without oxygen. He was but an ashen bird among demonic vultures.
Kilian soon disappeared into the mass of lost souls. A lonely eternity in the dark and empty world of purgatory would’ve been more pleasant than the suffering he would now have to endure. Kilian had failed to realize that forgiveness cannot be given at a mere request tinged with regret. Forgiveness is granted to a plea saturated with remorse.
At the demise of Kilian’s soul, tears cascaded down Nithaiah’s cheeks. His subtle whispers had held the magnitude of total destruction. All the bloodshed, the misery, the despair, and now an eternity of torture had come from his own soft words. If only the muse had stopped to consider what immense power they held before he had uttered them.
Nithaiah looked down upon those twisting and writhing in the depths of hell and felt great despair. He glanced up at the heavens and his depression worsened. It had not been his place to speak the fatal words that doomed their existence. It had not been their time to perish.
Dropping to his knees, a silent prayer escaped his lips. Head bowed, Nithaiah wept. With his face buried in his hands, he did not plead with God to spare him. Instead, he thought of the weight his words had carried and accepted the fate he deserved. Even if his destiny was to be that of Kilian’s, he only cared that his sincere apology was heard.
Then with a heavy sigh, he rose up and stood at the precipice of destruction. He gazed down upon the flailing, seared limbs of those wailing beneath the brutality of all the demons that their own sins had created. With a solemn expression, he prepared to join the rest who fell below.
Looking down upon this broken child, a new resolution was found. A breath, like none Nithaiah had ever felt, filled his lungs. The earth and sky closed and the gateways to the other worlds sealed shut. But, Nithaiah did not find himself locked in perpetual purgatory as he expected.
He was returned to the world of life. Not the world plagued by evil and destroyed by the cruel weapons Killian had devised, but a new world revived by Nithaiah’s own tears. Reaching a trembling hand over his back, he found that shredded wings were no longer there. Nithaiah, the former muse, had been reborn as a human. Once an accomplice in destruction, he was now to be an element of creation.
